Fessitall
by RaichuTec
Summary: Viktor has a little secret. He's horribly shy.


**Fessitall**

by

RaichuTec

There was one thing few people knew about Viktor Krum, no matter how famous a Quidditch player he was. When it came to women, he was incredibly and most horribly shy.  
  
The library at Hogwarts was the only place Viktor Krum felt truly at home in. Were all libraries alike? Perhaps it was just the books, stacks and shelves of them, all smelling faintly of dust and age. Didn't matter if it were Durmstrang or Hogwarts, it was still peaceful and quiet. At least, it was until the fangirls found him. It was only a matter of time, he knew, and no matter how hard he pretended not to see him, they never gave up. They would trail into the library and giggle and whisper among themselves while believing they had cleverly hidden themselves behind the bookshelves closest to his table. Eventually he'd get tired of it and give up any idea of studying. But, only on those days when _she_ didn't drop by.  
  
Granted, there weren't that many days that he didn't see her in the library. Hermione Granger, one of the smartest girls in Hogwarts and one of the best friends of the famous Harry Potter, came almost like clockwork. She sat at the same table nearly every time and wore the same studiously serious expression, never sparing him more than a passing glance. Unlike the hoards of adoring fans who cornered him in the hallways or trailed after him across the grounds of the school, _she_ never much acknowledged him other than to give him an annoyed look whenever it appeared that he had a tome she was looking for that day.  
  
It was the very thing that attracted him to her.   
  
Of course, getting up the nerve to speak to her was one of the most difficult obstacles he'd encountered so far. Her hard stares intimidated him far more than he liked to admit. Then there was opportunity, or rather precious little of it. Viktor was not often left alone. When not in the presence of his classmates from Durmstrang or Headmaster Karkaroff, he was being followed by gaggles of fangirls. On those few occasions that he managed to shake them, he'd found Hermione in the company of either Harry Potter, or Ron Weasley, her two best companions according to the way others in Hogwarts talked. While Viktor wasn't really concerned about Potter's fame, the boy was several years younger and had still managed to tie him in the first task for the Triwizard Competition. It burned a bit, enough to keep his distance even if he recognized his envy. Viktor Krum had experienced defeat before, but the taste of it wasn't something he wished to repeat.  
  
His chance didn't arrive until after the announcement of the Yule Ball. As expected, she came to the library just after he'd managed to sneak in, curled up at his table with a tome carefully picked from as far back as possible. He didn't want to upset her immediately by taking one of the books she was after and lately she'd been plucking out titles from the center shelves, in the sections detailing House Elves. Remembering this, he selected a rather dry discourse on the nature of Fizzglicks of Northern Ireland.   
  
The moment she entered, however, he wasn't really paying attention and stopped somewhere around the diet of the Fizzglick on page thirty-two of chapter three. Selecting her usual seat, she gave him a brief glance before selecting one of the books from her bag and pulling it open in front of her. Next came parchments, to the side, and lastly she selected her quill, for note taking. She did not look at him again, as if he ceased to exist the moment her studies began.  
  
Viktor glanced to the left, and then to the right and finally over his shoulder. For once, there were no girls gathered nearby. No whispering or giggling or goggling eyes peeking shyly around the corner. It was his chance, at last. Rising from his chair, he approached as quietly as possible, feeling as though he were intruding with his approach.  
  
She did not look up, even as he loomed closer, standing right beside her, close enough to touch if he dared. Was she ignoring him on purpose, hoping that he would just go away if she pretended he wasn't there? Why didn't he just introduce himself? Why couldn't he at least tap her on the shoulder? Perhaps he shouldn't bother her. Yes, she looked very busy. He was just about to give up and head back to his dry reading about Fizzglicks when she suddenly looked up at him, brows furrowed in consternation.  
  
"Yes?" she asked sharply, expression dour and demanding.  
  
Viktor suddenly lost the words with which to speak and felt a rise of panic inside. He hadn't even thought to bring his wand, to cast the spell that made it possible to communicate in her language without the embarrassment of forgetting his English lessons and saying something incorrectly, or -- even worse -- saying something stupid. He opened his mouth to answer, found that his mind just couldn't put his thoughts into English and promptly clamped his lips shut again.  
  
Perhaps it was his outward anxiety revealing itself, but Hermione's expression shifted. Annoyance quickly turned into puzzlement and finally her features softened. She sighed quietly, relaxing her rigid posture and gestured to a seat beside her. "Sit down, please, you look as if Professor Snape just threatened to make you swallow a draft of Fessitall Oil."  
  
Viktor could hardly believe his luck and sat down without any argument. His mind unjumbled enough to finally say something. "I do not know vat you mean by dis Fessimall Oil. Vat is it?" He was careful to enunciate his words, not trusting himself to speak too quickly. To his delight, she smiled and shook her head at him.  
  
"Fessitall. It's a potion I've heard he uses to make students confess things when it's clear that they're lying. I don't know if it actually exists, so far the threat alone has worked. Mind you he hasn't ever wanted to use it on _me_ but I've heard him threaten others."  
  
"Ah," Viktor replied. Afterward came an awkward silence, filled only by the noise of the fangirls having found him at last. He could hear them whispering to each other, wondering what he was doing speaking to Hermione Granger, of all people. He did his best to ignore them.  
  
Hermione had noticed them, too, sparing an annoyed glance toward the shelves they hid behind. "It can't be easy to have them trailing you everywhere. You never seem to pay them much mind."  
  
"No," Viktor agreed. He wished there was a way to make them vanish. If only he'd asked her sooner, then he wouldn't have to worry about an audience.  
  
Hermione huffed out an exasperated breath of air and closed her book, "Well, I'm sure they won't like to see you talking to me. So tell me, Mr. Krum, did you want to ask me something?"  
  
"Vell, yes," he replied, suddenly grasping the opportunity, "I vanted to ask if you vuld go vis me to the Yule Ball."  
  
A chorus of gasps gave away the fangirls. Someone dropped a book in the hollow silence that followed, the thump much louder than it would have been normally. Hermione blinked, startled by the question. Her jaw dropped, lips soundlessly searching for a reply. "I... well, I..." She was interrupted by one of the girls sobbing suddenly. Her resolve returned almost immediately, eyes narrowing as she glared toward the shelf where the fangirls continually peeked out, trying to see what was going on without being conspicuous. With a steely determination returning to her posture, she looked back toward Viktor and nodded her head firmly, "Yes. I'll go with you to the Yule Ball."  
  
Viktor smiled, relief flooding through him at last. Of course, now he would have to deal with his gaggle of fangirls trailing after him with sniffles and sobs, but it was worth the aggravation.  
  



End file.
